Page 44 of Rafe’s Future

Rafe’s shoulders shook with a deep chuckle. “I know, sweetheart.” He brought a hand to her face like before. “It is a horrible idea. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I thought you wanted this.”

“Oh, I do.” He nodded. “Trust me. Just not tonight. Not while you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You heard what the doctor said about rest.”

“Doctor, shmocter.” Her hazel eyes rolled.

“This isn’t never, Lena.” He leaned in for another soft kiss. “Just want to make sure it’s about us and not what happened.”

“I’m not using you for sex as some sort of trauma therapy, Rafe.” Her shoulders fell. “But I get it. And you’re probably right. It sucks, but you’re probably right.”

“You get settled into your room okay?”

“Are you kidding?” She sent him a look that said she thought he was nuts. “Have you seen the gigantic canopy bed?”

The rhetorical question made him grin. “I’m just down the hall if you need me.”

“What if I need you now?”

“Lena . . .”

That time, her name was a warning.

“All right, all right,” she rasped, stepping out of his reach with a flippant wave of her hand. “But don’t think I won’t remind you of this moment when you come beggin’ for more.”

Rafe called out for her as she headed for the door.

“I don’t beg.”

But for you, I just might.

Lena stopped just before crossing the threshold to bring her gaze back to his. “We’ll see.” She winked.

A second later, she was gone and Rafe was alone with his thoughts. The first that came to mind?

You’re a bloody fool.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The next day . . .

Lena stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her gaze locked on the finger-shaped bruises encircling her neck. Blue. Black. A bit of red mixed with shades of purple. The myriad of colors was the only outward proof of how easily she could have died. If Rafe hadn’t come into that room when he did⁠—

I wouldn’t be here.

But he had, and she was, so she needed to stop with all the pointless what-ifs. Kozlova was still out there, and eventually, he would send someone else to kill her and Rafe. She met her own gaze in the mirror as her thoughts shifted to something far more pleasant.

Rafe kissed me.

And boy, what a kiss it was.

Hot. Powerful. Toe-curling and oh-so-good. The man kissed as if it were his reason for living, and Lena prayed for the chance to taste him again.

Her eyes fell shut, and for a short, stolen moment, she replayed the unexpected scene from the night before. She and Rafe in his den. The bourbon. Her sincere apology and the revelation of Rafe’s misplaced guilt.